Chapter 1: The Disappearing Act

A/N: This story is told from the POV of Dylan Massett, but it is indeed about Soul Bates. Trust me.

"What's up?"

"Nothing, what's up from your end? Did you find something?"

"Not a damn thing. It's like they were swallowed by the Earth."

They were getting desperate.

Dylan Massett had woken up that morning, eager to spend a weekend with his family after two weeks of hard work at the farm. It was unusually silent for the hour. At that time, Norma was usually wide awake, cooking breakfast and urging him and his brother to come down to eat. He went to check his brother out, but he wasn't in his bedroom. The bed was even done, like he hadn't slept in it for a second.

"Goddammit he must've shared the bed with Norma last night," Dylan thought. "No wonder they're not up yet. What's wrong with these people?"

He then went to his mother's bedroom. Empty. Bed done as well. "Norma? Normaaa! Normaaan?!" he yelled, but no one answered. He looked in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, even the basement, but no dice. He went down to the motel, but no one was in the office. Norma's car was still there. He called Norma, but her cell phone was turned off. He called Norman, same thing. Dylan called the Sheriff for help.

"Yes I'm sure, they're just gone… yes I checked everywhere… no, there's no note or anything… okay, I'll stay here"

He went up to the house again and checked the closets: their clothes and toiletries were gone. So were the gun, the money, and the papers for the house and the motel. Shit.

"I went everywhere in town and I've shown their pictures to every single person in White Pine Bay, but nobody has seen them. Not even at the bus station."

Dylan was fuming.

"As a cop, there's nothing else I can do," said Romero.

"What are you talking about? They're missing! They're two missing people! Can't you put an alert or something?"

"They're two healthy adults who are not in trouble with the law and seem to have left by choice. I can't open an investigation for people who move away in the spur of the moment."

"We know Norman isn't healthy," Dylan said. "He blacks out! Maybe... maybe he kidnapped Norma, that's worthy of an investigation, right?"

"Or maybe she kidnapped him," the sheriff pointed out. "Dylan, there are no signs of struggle, no blood. You said yourself their things aren't there and it seems like they took them. Besides, it needs to be 72 hours after they disappear for the police to do anything."

"This can't be it," said Dylan, "we can't just... fold our arms while they disappear"

The sheriff gave him a look somewhere between pity and sympathy. He didn't wanna believe that either.

"As Alex Romero," he said, "I'll do everything in my power to find them. As the sheriff, I'll see what I can do."

It turned out not to be much. Days went by. Soon it was weeks, then months, and years. Dylan went from desperation to resignation, and eventually it was like his mother and brother had never been there. The only evidence of their existence were the numerous posters with their faces in them, begging people to please call if they ever saw them, that there was a juicy reward for any information.

The bypass was built in a hurry, so Dylan closed down the motel and moved his weed farm instead. Caleb, his father, moved in as well, to help with the upkeep of the farm. Emma followed suit when she married him. 99 weed plants at a time weren't enough to make them rich, but they gave them a comfortable (if somewhat empty) life.

He liked simplicity, his only distractions being his work, his girlfriend and later wife Emma, and watching the news with his makeshift family. A military strike, a mass asphyxiation event, an Amtrak accident, a soccer scandal, some dancing chickens. The events of the world were all a blur, the background noise to him smoking cigarettes and watching the crops grow.

Seeing his father, however, kept him from throwing Norma and Norman in the vault of lost memories once and for all. Caleb worked without tiring, but every once in a while, he would make some comment or do something that would open the wound once again. "I don't think it's a good idea," he said when Emma suggested painting the façade of the house baby yellow, "what if Norma comes and freaks out?"

"Then we'll paint it back," she answered without skipping a beat.

Emma didn't have the heart to tell him to get over it, to forget about his sister. Dylan didn't either. He didn't wanna go down that road. Nonetheless, he didn't blame his father. He often caught himself wondering about that woman from time to time. That woman and that boy who shared his blood, who made him think it was possible for him to touch the sky, to have the family he had always dreamed of. People were disappointing indeed.

One Sunday noon they were having a barbecue, along with Gunner and Emma's dad, taking advantage of the summer weather. Dylan went to the kitchen for some more marinated steak, when the phone rang. Against his first instincts, Dylan picked it up.

"Hello? he said, "... yeah, this is him, who's this?... What?"

He opened his eyes like plates and started breathing heavily. No. This could not be happening.